Wings
by Insert a Catchy Penname Here
Summary: "Just stay down..." her eyes pleaded as she fell to her knees, "stay down, Prim." "Katniss..." I croaked, and she places her hand over my chest, her eyes pleading and as fearful as my own. "Don't move..." she whispers, no doubt not wanting to lose me again, "it's alright, my little Mockingjay." Looking to her through teary eyes, I wish we could just fly away, from this war.
1. Ghostly connection

Stay Down 1

A lot could change in a few years.

Katniss quietly shut the door to her daughter's room before she made her way silently down the hall. Her socks didn't announce her leaving to her oldest child, who was long since lost in the land of nod. The women slipped off her clothes and slipped on her nightgown, sliding under the warmth her comforter should've brought her.

On most nights, she could let the ghosts come to her with their hauntings easily and be able to let the pain subside when morning came. But it was this time of year she wouldn't be able to handle that guilt so easily.

Tomorrow was the day where they honored those who'd fallen in the Uprising.

_Katniss, _a voice whispered in her ear. It was a soft voice, full of understanding and forgiveness that the oldest Everdeen sister didn't feel like she should deserve after what had happened.

It hadn't been her fault, of course. It was Coin's, and her death didn't haunt her. It never would because it was for _her _avengeness. But even if she was avenged, _her_ death would always haunt her in every sleeping hour she'd have, even in her dreams.

Their bond went out from the living and further than the dead. They talked to each other at night for a little while, a time both of them enjoyed. Even if _she _could understand her emotions, Katniss was grateful _she _didn't press her on that ever-present guilt. That time the shared was meant to be enjoyed, and it always was to the fullest.

"Prim," the older sister sighed happily, "it's felt like forever since I talked to you, Little Duck."

_I know, _her voice replied weakly, and the older girl could almost feel her smile, _Katniss...there's danger coming. _

"What kind of danger?" when she was scared, the women could feel it. Now she felt a fear much like she felt in herself when she was fighting for her life in the Hunger Games so many years ago, and it made her heart scream.

_The Capitol is not happy about being overthrown, _her voice was soft and shaky as she quietly cried, _they are plotting...their fallen have spoken of it, and the living will try and start their own uprising._

__"Oh no..." she'd always known the Capitol wouldn't stay down, but...the day was too soon.

_Oh no...I have to go, _their hour went too fast for them, _Katniss...if they rebel, you have to be the Mockingjay. _

__And her little sister was gone. The women sighed shakily and tried to fake it like she was fine when Peeta came in for the night. She would have to be the Mockinjay again...

But she didn't think she could.


	2. So sorry

_**Wide Awake 2 **_

Author Note: Decided to change the story title for reasons unknown ;) Sorry for the forever-waited update, (hope you three people who reviewed didn't forget me!) and I plan on updating this again later on this week. I say this most weekends, but since I don't have school Friday...

Update day, I'm hoping! ;)

* * *

_**Prim's P. O. V. **_

Those who do it call it 'haunting', but it's not a very kind name for it in my opinion. Instead, I call it 'wandering', at least for me. Not all of us go around and scare the living daylights out of those poor living souls; some of us simply...well, _wander_.

I also talk to the living for an hour each night, and I always talk to Katniss. Sometimes I'm able to talk to Mother if the connections are strong enough, but it's mostly just her. I miss her terribly and I know she misses me, too; it was so horrifying to see her try to commit suicide and join me too early in Heaven.

But she's doing okay now, because of Peeta and me finally being able to talk to her, and I am doing wonderful.

She feels so guilty about my death, but it was only painful when I was alive after the bombing set off. I could feel myself being ripped apart and bursting, and then I felt myself floating, flying over Panem and coming into this beautiful place. I am forever happy and probably worship God, and I've even met a few friends.

Her name is Rue, and somehow, I knew we'd be friends when she in the Hunger Games with Katniss. She seemed a lot like me, and she's so quiet and kind, it's hard not to love her and want to be her friend. She wanders with me sometime, too, and we have great fun spreading our wings and taking to the skies, playing in the clouds.

Heaven simply is a paradise.

I honestly do feel bad for Katniss sometimes, even though she is pretty happy right now, for having to still live in Panem. And now that the Capitol planning an uprising of their own and she will be forced back into the Mockingjay suit again...

I'm worried she won't be able to take it again.

* * *

"Prim," Rue's soft voice inquires to me as we spread out our beautiful white wings, "do you think I should go visit Katniss?"

Honestly, I'd considering wandering to see her as well instead of just investing Panem, fixing small things invisibly when suspicious was low. If I could, I could become solid for just a little while, enough for the living to see me pretty well and touch me. Maybe if I went and saw Katniss tonight, we'd get enough stregnth to somehow help the coming uprising: I'd take care of the Capialites when they die if they are pure enough to live here and believe and attempt to persuade them to convince their living rebels to think differently, and she will help the war effort as an image.

Just maybe, with the two of us working together, we'll win again.

* * *

When I touch the primroses outside of Katniss and Peeta's home, they fill with life and perk up instantly.

"That's amazing," Rue compliments me, even though I can seem to heal any plant with my touch, and I smile in return.

"Thank you," together, we silently pass through the walls, coming in invisibly and unnoticed on the two of them holding their children close, Katniss singing them lullabies as Peeta rocks them gently. It's an adorable sight, truly; her daughter and son are amazing, beautiful, and happy.

It sure is great to see after everything that has happened.

Her daughter's name is Primrue Evening Mellerk, and her son is Cinna Zayn Mellerk.

Primrue's first name is kind of a given, and she is lovely like the flowers she is named for. Katniss once told me that her name was beautiful, because we two were so beautiful and lovely to her, and I blushed at that. Evening is our mother's first name as well, and even Peeta is in both of them, not only in gentics, but in the last name.

Cinna's first name is also a given, from the lovely man who made her the Mockingjay. He was so amazing to her and so amazing to everyone; he was a silent rebel who died far too soon. Zayn was our father's first name, and a Jr. was clipped to the end of his name, just for clarification from Peeta.

I am proud to be their aunt, even though I am dead.

"Sing the Tree Song, Mommy," Cinna says in his five-year-old small voice, and her face only tenses for a moment before she plasters a smile and begins.

_Are you, are you, _

_Coming to the tree? _

_Where they strung up a man they say _

_Murdered three. _

_Strange things, did happen here, _

_No stranger would it be. _

_If we met up at midnight, _

_In the hanging tree..._

As she continues, I see Primrue's eyes darken just a little bit and grow misty. She knows about the Games, and the meaning of certain songs and what they mean to Katniss.

That's good, but it's also a cold reality. It's nice to know that her own daughter knows and partically understands what she's gone through, and maybe when she's older, she can even comfort her when she has nightmares, so Peeta won't have to do it alone. But it's also horrible, because...well, if my mother had even told me anything like that about her, I wouldn't have been scared to death of her.

But Primrue and Cinna Jr. are both braver than I am, and I've known that from the seconds they were born into a healing, united Panem.

* * *

Rue drifts off to watch her family and look after both of our former Districts, but I stay, watching Katniss' beautiful family until she goes to bed early, as I figured she would.

"Katniss," I whisper, even though my voice is already light and airy to the living without me whispering, "I came to visit you."

She looks around, obviously very confused as she finishes pulling free her braid, making her long brown hair fall in waves around her hips. She is very beautiful as a women, just like she always has been, and I smile at her as I materilize a bit. She stares for a moment...stares...then wraps me a big, warm hug. Even if I am colder to her than she is to me, I know it comforts her just to feel me again, just like being in her arms makes me feel a serenity like no other.

"My precious Little Duck," she coos in my ear in a low mumur, and I tangle my still-small hands in her hair, "you've grown so much."

In this form, I really haven't. I'm still in my thirteen-year-old body, with my frail figure, my hair in one braid instead of two, and my still developing womenly features. Smiling to her gently, I step back and spread open my arms, perching myself on my toes and beginning to spin, making my feet come off the ground. I find myself giggling as I spin, wiggling my toes and stretching as tall as I can, until I finish shifting into what I would look like if I was still alive.

Technically, I'm twenty one, which means my body and figure is that of a young women. My hair is straight now and slips just past my shoulders in the back, though it also lays delicatley over my shoulders as well. I've got bangs now that come straight across, and my blue eyes are just a bit darker now, making me look haunting, just like a really am. I'm wearing a white dress, like most angels do, but I disgarded the matching, beautiful slippers. For some reason, I like to go barefoot, since I can float above any Earth rocks or glass, just like I usually stay in my twelve-year-old or thirteen-year-old form, like Rue and most angels, especially when visiting their loved ones; they stay in the form they died in.

At least I don't have to battle wounds that most people are left with; if I did, I would still be blown into bits.

"You would have been such a beautiful women..." Katniss' eyes have grown misty again, and we instantly elope ourselves in a hug. My body is still smaller against hers, but she doesn't have to lean as we hold each other close, faces hidden in each other's shoulders.

"I'm always with you," I coo softly in her ear for comfort, touching her heart gingerly, "right here."

"I know..." she sniffs, then forces a weak smile on her face, "you've turned into the strong one instead of me, Little Duck."

"I'm not so little anymore," I tease, even if it is true.

"That's right," she wipes her eyes a bit, "you're all grown up now, aren't you?"

"Yes...I guess I am..." I find myself wiping my own eyes, "Katniss...are you going to be okay? I mean...are you going to be able to be...?"

I let the question hang in the air. She'll probably promise me to try, even if she doesn't say it verbally, but I know that even she has her breaking point. I'm not sure if she _really _will be able to be the Mockingjay again, if she is really up for it after all she has been through.

"I don't know..." and once again we hug, spending the rest of my visit holding each other, comforting without words, "I'm sorry, Prim."

_I'm so sorry. _


	3. Meetings

Wings 3

_**Author Note: **_Hi, I have neglected this story in so many ways...X.X. I'm considering putting it up for adoption, depending on how many people review this chapter. Oh, and can you guys check out my newest one shot? Nobody's reviewed it yet...:(.

It's called **_You're Safe_ Now** and a Finnick/Prim friendship kind of the thing. Please, read and reveiw it!

But before you, (hopefully,) do that...enjoy this chapter! :D

* * *

**_Rue's P. O. V. _**

District Eleven has changed in more than one way since I've lived there, but the change isn't bad, thankfully.

As I drift down into the meadow my siblings and I used to come to all of the time after a long day of work, I find that I am not alone. My youngest sister, Raisly, and my second youngest sister, Rose, are standing together, huddled against the chilly wind of the night. Raisly is thirteen now and Rose is fifteen, which doesn't surprise me but makes me feel...well, a little old. They were so young the last time I saw them in the Goodbye Room before my Games, and now they're getting to be grown up while I'm still twelve years old in the land of the living and twenty one in Heaven.

"Come on, guys," a tall seventeen year old girl calls fom behind them, clutching a thinly-woven wool blanket around her shivering body, "you need to get out of the wind!"

"We'll come in soon," Rose's voice is barely audible, but both of us hear her against the dead silence consuming the night.

Moving as silently as always, I drift into our home. District Eleven was given some special treatment by Katniss after the Rebellion had settled over the new Panem, so everybody was naturally in better shape and had more stable living conditions. There weren't holes in the thin screen covers against all the weather in the poorest part of the already poor District Eleven, and most of the children had rounder stomachs than I'd remembered before. As far as I've been able to tell, everybody still works hard, but the new mayor is a lot nicer about it.

Our house still feels like my true home as I enter through the wall, letting the fire warm up my ghostly form and send pleasured shivers up my skin. Mama is huddled the closest to the flames, a couple of blankets around her trembling body as she sleeps lightly. She's always been a person who stresses out over everything, and since my death, I've watched her break, like Katniss did. She was unstable and borderline dangerous for a long time, until the Rebellion was at it's peak. It was thin she seemed to snap out of it and begin working again, making medicine for the rebels and helping Dad take care of her children more than she was before. Now she's usually tired and worn down by simple things; she's depressed by her loss.

By _my _loss.

It breaks my heart everytime I see her; it really does. I'm grateful that she's learning to be strong again, but I've also been watching it take it's toll on the rest of my family. Dad stopped talking for a really long time but kept working and kept feeding everyone the best he could, but he was also depressed. If someone spoke to him, even if it was a child like Raisly, his bipolar disorder would start acting up almost instantly. It was definatley a scary time, but I'm wordlessly proud of how strong my brothers and sisters were for their sakes.

For _my _sake.

Jackson became the oldest sibling at the age of eleven, and he took my place in a way. He watched over the others mostly, trying desperately to hide his lack of work until my other brother, Stephan, began catching on and started taking on his work load as well at the age of eight. Tarsah, who was nine when I was killed, began helping both of them out while Rose and Raisly did their best to take care of our nearly shattered parents. They were incredible and I was so, so, _so _proud as I mourned quiety to myself, missing them every day for the longest time.

I still miss them, but at least I can see them.

While Mama sleeps lightly by the flames that remind me almost too much of Katniss, Dad is baking some bread in the kitchen. Just by the look on his face I know that, even though it's been eight years since the Rebellion ended, he still can't believe we've got a little more than enough food now. He grew up in a poor family, so being able to go to sleep with a full stomach every night must have been nice. A good part of me wishes I could've brought this joy and relief to my family by being the Victor, but the other part reminds me that I am partially the reason Katniss began the Uprising.

This brings me a little at piece as I peer into our room. It's not much of a surprise to me at this point that he's sitting down at the piano they were given by the new mayor when he was cleaning out his new home, which Jackson, Rose, and Raisley learned to play. He looks even older than twenty as he touches one key, his eyes glistening with sadness as a couple of more keys, proving that he's going to start the famous song Katniss sang to me when I was dying in the arena so long ago. My own eyes grow misty as I look over to Stephan, who's sixteen now and sniffs once.

"I wish she could be here with us," he comments sadly, "she would be twenty two today."

_Twenty two today. It's my birthday._

Carefully, I sit beside Jackson on the piano bench. I'm invisble to them right now, as I usually am when I visit them, but I make a silent promise to materilize once all of my siblings are in this room. For now, I listen as Jackson plays the beautiful tune of my final lullaby, finding myself in tears before it was over, just like both of them. The air grows absolutely frozen and quiet, seemingly all over the District, as his fingers leave the keys and cover his eyes to attempt hiding the tears. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and assure him I was there and wouldn't go anywhere, but of course that's not possible.

Death is beautiful, but it also comes with a price.

Tarsah comes inside now, Rose and Raisley at her heels. Tears are pouring down all of their faces, expressions a mixture of pain, grief, and misery, as Stephan opens his arms. The invitation is accepted by Tarsah and Rose, who bury their faces in his chest and start sobbing quietly, but Raisly goes right to Jackson, who's face is still covered his hands. Only when she touches his forehead does he look up long enough to take her in his own grip, burying his face in her hair as she sniffles miserably into his shirt. Instead of being strong, this family is mourning someone that was special.

_My _family is mourning _me._

They don't even know I'm here yet.

"Jackson. Stephan. Tarsah. Rose. Raisly," my voice sounds light and hoarse in the land of the living, but by the way their bodies get tense, I know they've heard me.

"Who's there?" Jackson is the first to look up, even though his face is tear streaked.

"It's me," I smile gently as I summon the inner strength I posses, feelng myself growing warmer and warmer until I know I am visable to them, standing in the middle of our bedroom in my twelve year old form.

There is infinite silence.

"Rue..." Rose speak up next, her voice shaking and cracking with almost tortured emotion, "i-is...is th-that really y-you?"

"Yes, it's me," now my gentle has turned watery, especially as Raisly leaps up first to throw her arms around my waist.

"We missed you!" she says, tears slipping down her face all that faster, "but now you're back...even if it isn't forever, it's for a little while, right?"

I wish I could stay with them forever right now. One day, all of my family will die as well, and they will join me in Heaven. But until then, they will have to brave on through this dark storm alone, even if they are safe from the Capital. It breaks my non-beating heart, but I can't change it. All I _can _do is visit them like this one I can, and hopefully I can keep them strong with that.

Even I know the strongest people have their breaking points.

Like Katniss.

"Right," I assure my youngest sister, stroking her hair comfortingly as Rose and Tarsah cautiously toward me, eyes shining with renewed their themselves.

"Rue!" Stephan gets to me first, however, and flings his arms around my neck, starting to sob into my neck, unable to contain his emotions any longer, "I missed you so much! You're okay, thank God you're okay..."

"Of course," I stroke his hair as well as my sisters join the hug, my eyes finally falling to Jackson, who's been sitting motionlessly since I made my preseance known.

"How long?"

That's all he says in a hoarse voice that sounds too old for him. Keeping my eyes on his, I guide my other siblings' hands away from the hug, walking toward my oldest younger brother/sibling. His eyes are bloodshot and wet; he's broken himself.

"Since you were eleven, you've taken my place in this family," as I talk, I sit beside him carefully on the piano bench again, "you've been strong this entire time, but I can see how much you've hurt this entire. Just like everybody else, my death absolutely crushed your heart and soul. It crushed mine to see you all go through so much when you were all so young, and when you all still are. I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm regretful every day that I didn't win for you all. But now that I'm here, I want to tell you don't _always _have to be strong. We're here for you, just like you were there for them and there for me."

In that same minute, he buries his face in my shoulder; the wet drops on my shirt indicate his silent grief. One by one, my sisters and other brother join the hug once more, and eventually, so do my parents when they realize. Together, we all hold each other, a broken family continuing on the mend with myself right in the middle.

* * *

**_Prim's P. O. V. _**

"Have you heard any more about what the Capitol is planning?"

Finnick and I are sitting together on one of the endlessly comfortable clouds, our bare feet hanging on the edge casually as we talked. There weren't many Capitalites in Heaven, but there were a few that heard the rumors from those who haunted the living's world. Cinna was the one who first alerted me of it, and since then I'd been following a couple quietly when I'd wander the Earth, listening to the mute whispers. I'd told Finnick, who I'd grown to adore as a big brother figure, and he'd ended up telling Annie just like I'd told Katniss.

"Not recently," I shake my head, biting my lower lip worridley, "I'm worried about them, Finnick."

"I am too, Prim," he frowns a bit, reaching over and pulling me closer against his side, protectively, "but we'll watch after them. I mean...they're all going to die one day. Then they'll be with us."

"But what about the rest of Panem?" I feel my eyes stinging with cold tears that come because I am unliving, "what if the Games started again?"

Now biting his own lower lip, he tightened his hand on my shoulder. Even though all of his pain was over, the mention of them brought back unpleasent memories for both of us, especially him. Comfortingly, I wrap my fingers around his own, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks," he mumbles, his gaze far away and his getting a little shining.

"Aw, Finnick," I coo, reaching up again and thumbing away a couple stray tears, "it's okay now."

"But it's not for them," he buries his face in my shoulder now, "it's not okay for Katniss, or my son, or my wife."

Gently, I rub small circles in his back and let him cry. Being strong for him now is the least I can do after all he's done for me; I can only hope one day I'll be able to do the same even more for my big sister.

* * *

_**Unknown's P. O. V. **_

"I have a theory."

He's fearful of me; it's evident by the tense muscles in his shoulders, by his eyes that flicker when they meet my own gaze. He is a spineless man, however I allow him to sit in front of my desk. There are reasons I call useless expendables into my presenance, however failure to meet my demands often leads to bloodshed. I nod once in his general direction, signaling for him to continue telling me his theory. Subtly, he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his small, plastic-shriken nose, straights his red tie quickly, and pushes as piece of dark brown hair from his face.

He is nervous.

"The Mockingjay," he begins after clearing his throat, "has defeated us prior to this time, as you know. In response, I have been developing a way of retalliating our own rebellion in which we will conquer the Districts once more. She was the represitation of their rebellions, in which case we have two options that can lead to victory. Either we coax- or rather manupilate- her onto our side to be our representation, or we destroy her further. She is mentally insane at this point, you see. It would not take much more to finish her off."

"Your theories are relavent," I agree after a moment of pondering, "but the propistion is key. What is yours, considering this opiton?"

It is a test. This young lad seems to be bright enough, possibly just above being as expendable as the rest of my Capitalites. He clears his throat once more, his gaze falling to his lap.

"I propose...we destroy the Mockingjay," he begins slowly, "but that we take her children and her husband."

"And why is this preprosition relavent?"

Beads of sweat form on his forehead, smearing small spots of makeup. He is youthful, therefore he felt obligated to cover his acne in order to make a positive impression on myself.

"Taking them would not only destroy her completely," his throat is dry, judging by the airness now added to his borderline frantic words, "but also give ourselves a reprisintation in not only our Victory, but also in represination that the Capital can overcome the strongest forces."

"You are aware that the Districts have developed their form of security," I state, my voice clear, even, and just as smooth and cold as iced glass in the wintertime, "it would take years in order to accomplish this, and as you must now, the Capitalites have become restless to return to their lives of luxary and entertainment. Power will simply rule by two methods. There is promise, and in that promise and security lies hope. But power reigns also to fear of opposition. I have not been able to establish either of these methods in my time. Failure to do so will destroy myself, and what left we maintain of our Capital."

"It will not take so long if we pre-plan," he tries, though he is aware he has not satisifed me to my standards in his visit, "their security is still developing and maturing. Against our forces, they will be powerless."

"You sound like my grandfather, Dauntris Omez," I muse partially, rising from my chair and casting a glance to the temerary poorly made buildings that remains of the Capital, "power's underestimation leads to downfall. You underestimate their strength as well as our own."

It is at this point his emotions break through the tension, "I feel am being very reasonable, sir..!"

"I feel I am no longer obligiated to ask of the removal of Dauntris."

As I say these words, the two former Peacekeepers enter from where they were keeping watch in standard position from the doorway. Dauntris struggles briefly, eyes becoming misty and his face turning bright red.

"What are your plans for him, sir?" I inquire.

"Contain him," I reply, keeping my gaze on the soon to be once again glorious, powerful Capital, "I have other plans for his propositons."


End file.
